


Poisoned Apples Come From Rotten Trees (And Who Would Dare To Take A Bite?)

by Mariposa_Moon



Series: We are the Reckless, We are the Wild Youth [1]
Category: Descendants (2015), The Isle of the Lost Series - Melissa de la Cruz
Genre: Abuse, Abuse of Authority, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anorexia, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Attempted Sexual Assault, Child Abuse, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/F, Feelings, Feels, Gen, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Mental Health Issues, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Multi, Physical Abuse, Rants, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-17 13:18:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11276070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mariposa_Moon/pseuds/Mariposa_Moon
Summary: She's a mess, tangled with her confidence.She thinks she hasn't sinned.Well, she's unstoppable,Her walls are impassible.Oh, she thinks she's better off looking alone.'Cause the boys that chase her hips can just go find their way home.And at the end of the day she thinks to herself,"My body is a product being sold on a shelf.""Tell me I can change,Tell me I can change."





	Poisoned Apples Come From Rotten Trees (And Who Would Dare To Take A Bite?)

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: There's a sexual assault taking place here. Plus emotional and physical abuse. Nothing too explicit, but if you think you can't handle that, you're welcome to leave.
> 
> Also, when making the transition from my writing app to here, the italics kept going away. I really tried to get them to stay, and even tried to just rewrite them, but I swear it's an impossible task, so if some parts feel like they could have been better emphazised, that might be it.
> 
> Regardless, I hope you enjoy. Lyrics for the summary comr from "Don't You Dare Forget The Sun" by Get Scared

Evie has always been a seductress. It is, after all, what she had been taught ever since she was born. The Evil Queen gives her lessons on how to apply blush before she can talk properly, instructs her how to wing her eyeliner perfectly before she can write, and trains her in the art on how to pick out outfits before she can dress herself. Evie watches, and copies. She folds herself to her mother's will and tries to make her progenitor happy. It's the only thing she knows how to do.

 

Sometimes she could even dare to think it's working.

 

"You'll be better, my darling." Grimhilde smiles at her through the mirror as she brushes her bright blue hair, and it would have made for a cute mother-daughter moment if it weren't for the fact that even as a child Evie knew to not mistake her mother's roaming eyes for love. There was definitely some kind of appreciation in them, some affection even, but there was also a wicked edge in them, full of envy and egocentric thoughts.

 

She has long since learned to not let it bother her.

 

Sure enough, her mother continues her speech. "I will teach you how to get what you want with just one look." (She means what she wants, but Evie stays quiet). "Men are like animals, Evie dear. Good for nothing except company and status." The brush comes down harder against her scalp and Evie flinches, but her mother pretends not to notice. "That's a good thing, too, because it makes this all too easy. You just wave a piece of meat in front of them, and they will do anything you want." Here The Evil Queen laughs gleefully at the prospects filling her mind, at the bright future they are going to have. Because she will make Evie get them off this island, no matter the cost. Long gone are the days where she allows feelings to ruin her grand plans.

 

Evie just looks at her with unwavering eyes through the mirror. Everything her mother says being embedded into her brain. Her mother is right, she always is, because she's her mother and she knows better and she only wants the best for the both of them.

 

(She's always known that "the piece of meat" her mother was referring to was herself, but if that's what it takes to finally become royalty and not having to answer to anyone anymore, she's willing to play along).

 

So as she grows old and her body develops, her mother gives her more lessons on how to make it absolutely, all around "perfect". It unknowingly makes her hate her body every time her mother looks at her and scoffs.

 

"Genevieve, please do me a favour and put on makeup. No, I do not care you've just woken up, you look absolutely hideous."

 

"I know you're hungry, dear. But pretty girls have to learn to suffer a little to become perfect. And sure, you're cute and all, but not quite there yet."

 

"Straighten your back. You look like the Hunchback of Notre Dame when you're sitting like that." And she emphasises with a sigh. "So ugly and unladylike."

 

It becomes so much so that she can't stand to look at her own face without any make up on, because her mother never taught her the value of natural beauty. And she skips meals sometimes without needing to, because pretty girls aren't supposed to ask for more, even when what they're eating can barely sustain them. And she can't exactly relax in any position she might find herself in, because she has to make sure she looks attractive and poised and collected even when she's only sitting at the table or she risks having the underside of her arms hastily grabbed and pinched (her mother would never dare to leave a mark on her in plain sight, but that doesn't stop her from leaving marks of nails and cigarettes on her anyways in all the places she knows no one would dare to look).

 

She tells herself it's all worth it, because when she's finally allowed to leave the castle and go to the black market she feels all the eyes on her, and she smirks and sways her hips and the store owner can't take his eyes off of her, and she makes her way home with ridiculous discounts on all her items time and time again. And she gets better at it, learns to flirt without attachments and reads their body reactions to know which procedures she should take.

 

(She may feels disgusted by their looks, but her feelings don't matter. What matters is that she's making her mother happy, and if she's happy it means she will finally be pleased with Evie.

 

She comes home with jewelry and make up and clothes, and her pocket barely feels a few pounds lighter. And she can't help it, she feels proud for the first time in years. 

 

Her mother still huffs at her and points out any flaws she can find. Evie doesn't let her tears fall. She doesn't need her mother to yell at her for ruining her mascara, too.)

 

...

 

Evie had always known how to bend men to her will, but it's later in her life that she learns that men can try to bend her to theirs as well.

 

She walks home that day, the sun starting to set on the horizon as she swiftly and silently makes her way through the busy streets. Her mind is alert, it always is, but this time it's not enough.

 

An arm tightens around her waist as a hand clamps on her mouth, effectively trapping her yells as the man drags her deeper into an alley. She is sure someone has seen them, but no one steps out to help her, and she doesn't really expect them to, even when her eyes are open and wildly looking for someone who might. This is The Island of The Lost, of corrupted hearts and wicked souls. No one cares for anyone other than themselves.

 

"I've seen you around, little girl. Always walking around like everyone owes you shit." He mumbles, and she can hear the arousal his voice. It makes her sick. "You think you're hot shit, too. Though I can't blame you for that. You're boobs are the best pair I've ever seen." He laughs. "I can't wait to see them myself."

 

He slams her on the nearest wall, and hastily grabs her breasts. The pleasure she's supposed to feel it's not there, and instead her mind is filled to the brim with terror. She squirms harder, trying to get him to back off, but he slaps her hard, and tells her to hold still. She listens. It's what she knows how to do best.

 

When the man tries to turn her around (maybe he wants to see the terrified look on her face as he fucks her, she doesn't know), Evie takes her chance, and throws her palm upwards for his nose.

 

It works. She hears the almost satisfying crunch under her hand when it meets his face, and he groans with both pain and fury, but he lets his guard down just enough for her to slip out of his grip. Then, she takes one of the beauty products that she always has with her, opens it without a second glance, and throws it directly at his eyes. He wails as he feels his eyes burning. Evie just stands there and watches for a few seconds, her breaths harsh and uneven, before she finally breaks into a sprint.

 

She doesn't feel the slightest hint of pity against him as she runs away for her life. She did what she had to do. She knows that.

 

When she gets home her mother looks at her, at her wild eyes and tussled hair, and she knows immediately what's wrong.

 

A normal reaction would have probably been worry, sadness, maybe even pity. Or at least that's what Evie thinks, because it's not what the gets. But this wasn't the first time she was disappointed by her mother.

 

The Evil Queen grabs her daughter by the shoulders, and her grip faintly reminds her of the man that attacked her not even an hour ago. Her head spins harder, the blood rushing and making her see black spots at the corner if her eyes.

 

"You didn't let him fuck you, did you?" Grimhilde hisses at her with fury swirling in her eyes. Evie's ears are ringing too loud to give her an answer right away, and Grimhilde's grip tightens, her nails burying into her skin and drawing out blood. "You didn't let him! Or did you? You're not a fucking whore, Genevieve! Answer me right now!"

 

Evie shakes her head, which doesn't help her nausea at all, but it calms her mother down. She takes her hands off of her, and she slumps down to the floor as if the life had been sucked out of her.

 

Grimhilde grimaces at the sight, but her face is only filled with disgust. "Well, good. Don't let any riff-raff do that to you. You have to save that for the prince you're going to marry, or he will think you're a whore. And no daughter of mine will be shunned for being a whore." She turns around, hands on her hips as she searches for creams and potions. Evie faintly wishes she would look at her instead.

 

When the woman finally notices she hasn't moved an inch, she arcs an eyebrow. "Stand up and go dust yourself off. I'll see what I can do to get rid of all those scars."

 

Evie stands up awkwardly and walks away with her head hung low as she hears her mother lamenting the marks on her face, calling them ugly and disgusting. When she reaches her room, she glances at herself in the mirror, and maybe it's the combination of fear and panic and fury inside of her, or maybe it's just the sight of her bloodied self and the realization of what just happened to her, but the nausea finally hits her, making her throw up.

 

Or she would have thrown up if she had eaten something other than stale bread that morning. In her current state her stomach is completely empty and she is left to gag silently and clutch her throat as her body tries to rid itself of something that isn't there to begin with.

 

When the nausea fades away and she can finally breath, she starts crying. Her mother hears her sobs.

 

"Oh, grow up! I told you that men are no more than animals, didn't I? If you can't protect yourself then it's your own fault."

 

They're not animals, she thinks as she goes to the bathroom and splashes water on her face, wishing that the events of today would flow down the drain just like water does. They're worse than that, they're monsters.

 

After her mother helps her reduce the inflammation on her check and applies anti-scarring cream on her cuts, Evie makes her own concoction, filled with any toxic materials she can get her hands on. She pours it into a little bottle, and ever since then she doesn't leave the house without it.

 

She learns that she was skilled before, but if she wants to survive mostly unscathed, she has to learn to be dangerous too. She has to learn to tame the monsters around her, just as she has learned to kill the demons inside of her.

 

...

 

More men make attempts to take her, but after they all walk away from her with facial scars, deformities and some even partially blind, they learn to leave her alone. When they see blue hair walking down the streets, they're captivated, but they know better than to get close to her.

 

After all, it's the animals with bright colors that are the most toxic, and with her dark blue hair and her lips as red as blood, they should gave known not to mess with her.

 

She hears the murmurs when she walks down the streets, of confused men that don't know whether to be aroused at the sight of her or terrified.

 

"Poisoned Apple." they call her, and she revels at the hints of respect on their voice. Well, it's mostly fear, but she'll take what she can get.

 

"Evil Princess."

 

"Wicked Spawn."

 

"Bitch with claws."

 

Evie doesn't care what they say as long as they stay away from her. So she smiles and accepts the titles they give her. Titles are good, after all. It means she's separated herself, made herself recognizable and important.

 

Maybe one day, her mother will notice her as well.

 

...

 

It's not until later, when she meets Carlos and Jay and Mal- she shudders at the name- that she stops caring about her mother's opinion about her. She makes peace with the fact that she will never be enough for her mother, but she can try to be enough for them.

 

And God, she tries, so hard. Because Jay scoops her in his arms and brings her closer to his body and he flirts with her, not because he wants something out of her, but because that's just who he is and he's comfortable enough around her, and it makes her feel warm and safe. Protected.

 

And Carlos looks at her like he actually sees her. Not just her body, not just what she can do for him. And he listens to her like he actually cares about what she has to say, even when she rambles and misses the point entirely. He makes her feel important in a way that none of the lingering eyes of perverted men can.

 

But then there's Mal.

 

Mal, who walks around with her arm around Evie's shoulder, making sure everyone knows who she belongs to.

 

Mal, who kisses her body and praises her beauty and makes Evie believe it for the first time in years, even if it's just for a few moments.

 

Mal, who makes her feel so loved and wanted and like there's something grounding her to Earth for the first time.

 

And maybe, just maybe, that's all she ever needed.

 

...

 

Later, when they're surrounded by the blatant goodness that surrounded Auradon, she learns something else. Being loved never saved her from her inner demons. She has to learn to look at herself in the mirror and be comfortable with what she sees.

 

It had been hard to get to this point. Their original plan was nothing like this, especially her plan.

 

While Mal had entertained herself with getting the future king, Bennie-Boo, to get them a front row at his coronation (aka the most optimal position to steal the wand and take over Auradon), Evie had busied herself by trying to snatch a dumb prince for when their parents were finally liberated. It had been painstaking for the both of them to chase dull boys around when all they wanted was each other, so when the plan actually failed and they were able to defeat Maleficent, Evie couldn't really say she felt sad about that. Relieved would be more accurate description if her emotions.

 

Of course, just because they had chosen good doesn't mean all the bad memories they had would suddenly disappear. In the Isle, their scars were nothing, really. Hiding them was a worthless effort, because everyone around them was as broken as they were. And in the darkness that surrounded the Isle (both literal and metaphorical) no one noticed just how hideous they truly were. Well, Evie did, but it was easier to ignore them. 

 

But then they came into Auradon. And Auradon was so harshly bright, so damn full of light, that all their physical and mental issues had nowhere to hide.

 

And sure, she knew Mal was well aware of how her mother treated her, that she had seen the almost anxious way that she performed all her beauty rituals, but she hadn't really seen the depth of them.

 

"I love you, E." Mal kisses her knuckles while they stand in front of the mirror in their dorm. Evie can see herself, all if her- her skin, her moles, her subtle freckles and her scars. She stands there and let's Mal whisper sweet words in her ear.

 

"I know what she did to you," she wipes Evie's tears away, and when did she even start crying? "And as much as I want to, I can't erase it, Evie. I can't make you forget."

 

"It's alright, Mal." She finds herself saying. But it's not. It's not, and it will never be. But there's nothing she can do about it.

 

"If you can learn to love her..." She looks at her in the mirror, and Evie knows she's talking about her. "If you can look at her in the eye and not care about how she looks, then nothing she did will ever matter." She intertwines their fingers. "You'll be free." That's all I ever wanted for you.

 

Evie leans back against Mal, her eyed roaming, scrutiny her reflection just as her mother had done with her, and she expects the disgust to hit her.

 

Except she can't. Because Mal is there, and she's holding her like there was no one else in the world. She belongs to Mal, and she loves Mal and everything that she has, so she loves herself too.

 

Well, she's not quite there yet, but she knows that, with Mal by her side, she can learn how to, and that's enough for them, enough for her.

**Author's Note:**

> Rant fic about Evie's life because I just re-read the book and re-watched the movie all in a single day and fuck it I feel so deeply about her.  
> I just think that people kind of romanticize what she went through, you know? Like the write about her but it doesn't feel real. They write about her and they see her as this bubbly character, and I know that's how she was mostly portrayed as, but let me tell you a thing- someone who has been struggling with self-steem issues for as long as she has would be anything but. So here's my attempt to give her more depth (one of many, tbh. Because there are other fics that do such a good job at writing her as well).  
> So yeah, this version of Evie is a little darker, a little more Islander-like, if you will.
> 
> Btw, who else is pumped to watch Descendants 2? I better get some good Malvie moments put of it though, or I will rage.


End file.
